


our love is pure

by bilexualclarke



Series: never the same love twice [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Minor Wells Jaha/Raven Reyes, enjoy, my goal is to both make you cry and turn you on, this fic is like two thirds fluff and one third smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilexualclarke/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: “It’s not fair that you have to go to work on your birthday,” Jacob says in between a spoonful of cereal.“You go to school on your birthday,” Bellamy points out.“Well, yeah,” Jacob answers. “That’s because I get a prize.”“Who’s to say I don’t get a prize at work?”“Do you?” Jacob narrows his eyes in that childlike I-know-you’re-lying way, and he looks so much like Clarke that it nearly hurts. “I don’t get a prize at work,” Bellamy laments, popping the last bit of his Danish into his mouth and taking a final swig of his coffee, “but I do get four of them every time I come home.”or, the one where Bellamy has a birthday.





	

_Thanks so much to Jazz ([hooksandheroics](http://hooksandheroics.tumblr.com/)) for her help with all things Filipino. _

* * *

 

On the morning of his thirty-fifth birthday, Bellamy wakes up to the sound of his son’s cries, right on time at 4:37 a.m. on the dot. He rolls out of bed and slips into the room across the hall, scooping the squirming three-month-old out of his crib and cradling him to his chest.

 

“Good morning, little man,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the soft tuft of dark hair on his tiny head. Caleb’s cries turn into dull whimpers, and Bellamy rocks him back and forth for a moment until he settles in his arms.

 

“Let’s see if you need a change before we wake up your mom- _oh,_ _yes, you do_.”

 

Caleb blinks up at him as Bellamy lays him down on the changing table, his dark brown eyes still a bit foggy with sleep. He thanks his lucky stars that Caleb is different than his older sister, who _hated_ being changed and would scream her head off and thrash around the second she was laid down on the table. After three kids, Bellamy considers himself a diaper-changing pro, but the experience has left him with battle scars.

 

“Morning,” he hears from behind him as he is snapping the buttons on Caleb’s onesie back into place. Clarke is leaning against the doorframe, one of his old flannels hanging off her shoulder. She’s taken to sleeping in them now that she is breastfeeding again, the buttons giving her easier access than her usual sleep shirts.

 

Bellamy always loves it when she wears his clothes, but he knows for a fact that she only wears a pair of tiny sleep shorts beneath them, and no panties. So, yeah. That drives him a little crazy.

 

“Happy Birthday,” Clarke says softly when Bellamy scoops Caleb up from the table and walks over to her. She pulls him in for a kiss, a little hotter and rougher than he would have expected from 4:37-in-the-morning Clarke.

 

Bellamy hums in acknowledgement, ducking in for one more kiss, making Clarke huff a laugh against his lips. Caleb gurgles and waves a chubby little fist, not wanting to be left out.

 

“Good morning to you, too,” Clarke says when she pulls away, taking him from Bellamy’s arms and turning to walk back to their bedroom. She settles back into bed, resting against the headboard and unbuttoning the flannel with one hand. Bellamy climbs in beside her, flopping back down against the pillows as Clarke lifts Caleb to her breast.

 

“The gang is coming over around six,” she tells him, slowly stroking Caleb’s patch of hair with her index finger. “Raven said she’ll make her famous empanadas.”

 

Bellamy groans, nuzzling into Clarke’s side. “I love those empanadas.”

 

“Who doesn’t?” Clarke chuckles. He’s quiet for a minute, and then:

 

“Clarke, I’m old.”

 

“Are you serious right now?”

 

He sighs, propping himself up on his elbow to look her in the eye. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s not true; you were the one who found my gray hair last month.”

 

“You’ll still be sexy when you have gray hair,” Clarke assures him, switching Caleb to her other breast. “A real silver fox, Bell. I’ve thought about this. A lot.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles, leaning in to steal a kiss again. “Even with wrinkles, too?”

 

“Especially with wrinkles.”

 

Caleb eventually falls back asleep, so Clarke puts him back in his crib and climbs back into bed. They fall back asleep, too, and Clarke wakes him up at twenty to seven with his cock in her mouth.

 

“Jesus, Clarke,” he groans as he comes to, fisting his hand in her hair. Waking each other up with oral isn’t exactly new- it tends to be one of the easiest ways for them to be intimate, with the kids still asleep and a few blessed minutes to themselves- but it has never lost its spark.

 

She sucks him off leisurely, edging him until he’s a sweating, panting mess. When she finally lets him come, she takes his cock deep in her throat and moans, all the while looking up at him through her eyelashes in the way she knows drives him crazy.

 

“Happy Birthday,” she says again with a smirk, crawling back up his body as he lays nearly catatonic. Bellamy wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her onto his chest.

 

“I really fucking love you, you know that, right?”

 

Clarke smiles softly, pushing his curls away from his sweaty forehead and lightly scratching at his scalp. “I know. And I love you back.”

 

They get the kids up at seven so they have enough time to eat breakfast together before Jacob must go to school. It took a long time for them to get on a good schedule- one that had Bellamy working lots of late nights and overtime days and Clarke taking all the available shifts at the gallery. Once Caleb was born, things started to level out. Bellamy now works Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at the precinct and Clarke has just started going back to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They’ve decided that once Caleb is a bit bigger they’ll both start working on Saturday mornings, since Grandma Abby and Grandpa Marcus have been chomping at the bit to spend any free moment with the kids.

 

Since it’s Friday, Bellamy gets dressed for work while Clarke leads the kids through their morning routine. He finishes before them, so he makes his way down to the kitchen and is himself and Clarke a cup of coffee when something slams into his legs.

 

“Happy Birthday, Dad!” Jacob yells, giving him a quick squeeze around the waist before jumping up and down. “We’re gonna have a party tonight! Is there gonna be pizza?”

 

“Thank you, bud,” Bellamy says, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “And yes, it wouldn’t be a birthday party without pizza, would it?”

 

“There will be pizza at every party forever, that is the law,” Clarke says, entering the room with Caleb in her arms and Amelia toddling behind her.

 

Bellamy crouches down and opens his arms, and his daughter comes running into them. “Hi, baby girl,” he says, blowing a raspberry into her neck, making her shriek.

 

“Hey ’Melia,” Clarke says, “how do we say ‘Happy Birthday, Dada’?”

 

Amelia tilts her head up to look at him, all chubby cheeks and toothy grins. “Hap Bird-day, Dada!”

 

“Close enough,” Clarke laughs. She sits down at the table, turning Caleb around in her arms so he can watch his siblings. Jacob grabs a box of Fruit Loops from the pantry and Bellamy takes down two cereal bowls from the cabinet. Weekday breakfasts normally consist of cereal, toast, or toaster waffles, though Clarke remembered to stop at the sore last night and buy the raspberry Danish that Bellamy loves, and he cuts each of them a slice after he pours their coffee.

 

“It’s not fair that you have to go to work on your birthday,” Jacob says in between a spoonful of cereal.

 

“You go to school on your birthday,” Bellamy points out.

 

“Well, yeah,” Jacob answers. “That’s because I get a _prize_.”

 

“Who’s to say I don’t get a prize at work?”

 

“Do you?” Jacob narrows his eyes in that childlike I-know-you’re-lying way, and he looks so much like Clarke that it nearly hurts.

 

“I don’t get a prize at work,” Bellamy laments, popping the last bit of his Danish into his mouth and taking a final swig of his coffee, “but I do get four of them every time I come home.”

 

“ _Boooo_!” Clarke cackles, rolling her eyes. “You’re such a sap.”

 

“Well, sue me for loving my family!” he says exasperatedly, making a show of stomping over to the sink to rinse out his cup. Clarke giggles, grabbing his arm when he passes by her chair and pulling him down for kiss that just about borders on PG-13.

 

“We love you, too,” she says when they pull apart. “Have a good day, baby.”

 

He presses a kiss to her forehead, then drops one on the heads of each of their children. “Jacob, have fun at school. Amelia, please stay little forever. Caleb, don’t do anything monumental without me.”

 

Bellamy grabs his keys from the dish by the door and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Love you, guys! See you in a bit.” A chorus of “ _loveyoubyes_ ” follow him out the door.

 

Work, as expected, is nothing special. He goes over his cases with Miller, who brought him a birthday bagel and a handmade card from Molly. A little after noon, his phone beeps with a text from Clarke. He opens it casually, and then nearly drops his phone when he sees the content.

 

It’s a picture of Clarke, sprawled out on their bed, in nothing but a laced, light blue lingerie set. Only her bottom lip is visible, and he can see her teeth biting down on the plump skin. Her breasts spill over the cups of her bra, and he can just make out the dark pink of her nipples. The caption reads: _Who says you don’t get prizes at work?_

* * *

He gets off work early, pulling into his driveway at 4:17 instead of the usual 5:30. When he opens the front door, he is met with the delicious smells of Devil’s food cupcakes. Hanging up his bag and walking into the kitchen, he sees Clarke and Jacob diligently icing his favorite treat and Amelia sitting in the middle of the floor with dark crumbs all over her face.

 

“Dada!” she yells when she sees him, wiggling her little body around and making grabby hands, which are, of course, also covered in cupcake crumbs.

 

“Someone had dessert early,” he remarks, scooping her up and rounding the table to give Clarke a kiss.

 

“Someone’s home early,” Clarke says back, tilting her head up towards him. “Couldn’t wait to claim your prize?”

 

“What prize?” Jacob asks, licking some stray icing from the side of his hand.

 

“These delicious looking cupcakes, of course,” Bellamy says, ruffling his hair.

 

“I think I want to be a baker,” Jacob says soundly, turning back to his masterpiece. “This is really fun.”

 

“Just don’t let your sister eat you out of business.” Bellamy bops Amelia on the nose. “Is Caleb asleep?”

 

“I put him down about a half hour ago. Hopefully he’ll stay sleeping for a bit so he’s not cranky during the party.”

 

“He’ll have half a dozen people cooing over him, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

 

Bellamy takes a wet paper towel and wipes down Amelia, who attempts to wriggle out of his arms the whole time. Then he sets her back down and watches her waddle over to Clarke’s chair.

 

“I’m going to hop in the shower quick. Do you need me to do anything once I’m out?”

 

“The pizza is being delivered around 6:30, Raven is bringing empanadas, Miller’s got the beer, cupcakes are almost done, and Octavia said she has a special treat planned,” Clarke lists, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Everything is covered, Bell. You deserve to relax on your birthday.”

 

Bellamy ducks his head, running a hand through his hair and trying to hide his smile. He takes the stairs two at a time, and even over the sound of the shower he can hear his family laughing down below.

* * *

Lincoln and Octavia are the first to arrive. Lily flies through the front door, full of that boundless six-year-old energy. Her wild, natural curls bounce behind her as she nearly runs over Amelia in her mad dash into the house. The toddler is undeterred, laughing as she waddles after her cousin.

 

“Uncle Bell’my! How old are you?” Lily yells, running into Bellamy and wrapping her arms around his legs. Octavia and Lincoln follow her into the living room, smirking.

 

“How old do you think I am?” he asks, bending down to scoop her lanky body into his arms.

 

“Well, Mom says that you’re a hundred and six, but I don’t think you’re that old. I guessed eighty-three.”

 

“Well, you’re close.” Their heads turn as Miller walks in, Monty and Molly behind him. “Bellamy is actually eighty-four.”

 

At the sound of guests finally arriving, Jacob flies down the stairs and skids into the living room. Lily and Molly swarm him immediately, and the conversation turns to speculation over the upcoming episode of _Star Wars_.

 

“Ryan from my class said that his sister has a crush on Kylo Ren,” Molly says, pulling a face of disgust.

 

“But he’s the worst guy!” Lily says in disbelief.

 

“ _I know_ ,” Molly says.

 

“Finn is definitely the cutest,” Jacob says soundly.

 

“Bell,” Octavia says, catching her brother’s attention. “Check this out.”

 

She hands him a covered bowl and he peels back the aluminum foil on the top.

 

“ _Buko pandan_ ,” he breathes, looking up at her excitedly. “Lola’s recipe?”

 

Though Bellamy’s father had died before his first birthday, his paternal grandmother had stayed close with him throughout his life. When his mother died, she was the one who took him and Octavia in and took care of them until her death nearly twelve years ago.

 

“I found it in one of her books,” Octavia tells him with a smile. The sweet dessert had always been his favorite, and although both him and Octavia had tried to recreate it over the years, but eventually they gave up, figuring that they would never make it just like she did. “I tried a bit myself and I think it’s finally just right.”

 

Bellamy dips his fingers into the bowl and grabs a green jello cube, popping it into his mouth. He can picture his _lola_ smacking his hand away, scolding him for poor manners.

 

“It’s perfect, O,” he says in awe. “Clarke, babe, look! O made _buko pandan_!”

 

Clarke, who was coming down the stairs with a freshly-napped and newly-changed Caleb in her arms, smiles appreciatively.

 

“Now I can finally try the dessert you’ve been raving about for years,” she says. She trades him Caleb for the bowl. “This stays cold, right?”

 

“Yup,” Octavia says, immediately cooing over her youngest nephew. Clarke nods, moving towards the kitchen to put the dessert it in the fridge. Jacob follows her, begging for a taste, but she tells him he must wait until later.

 

“Dad, what’s _buko pandan_?” Jacob asks, coming back out into the living room. “And can I _please_ have some now?”

 

“You heard your mother,” Bellamy says. “We’ll all try some after dinner. I think you’ll really enjoy it, bud. It’s a Filipino dessert that my _lola_ , my grandma, used to make.”

 

“I had it once, years ago,” Monty says. “What is it, condensed milk, all-purpose cream, green jello…?”

 

“Boiled with pandan leaves and sago,” Bellamy finishes. “Fu- _fudging_ delicious, right?”

 

“From what I remember, yes,” Monty says, smirking at his near-slip. “Fudging delicious is right.”

 

Raven and Wells arrive at the same time as the pizza guy, and he leaves with one of her empanadas as part of his tip and a slightly damaged psyche.

 

“Out of the way, lady with a baby,” Raven says, shooing Miller off the recliner. She has two slices of pizza on a paper plate in her left hand and a Capri-Sun in her right, and a stomach the size of soccer ball.  

 

“How much longer until this sucker pops out?” Miller groans, moving to the couch as Raven flops happily into his abandoned seat.

 

“Two more months,” Wells says, watching with a small grin as Raven balances both the plate and the juice pouch on her stomach. “Got any suggestions for a name?”

 

“Thelonious always had a nice ring to it,” Miller responds through a mouthful of pepperoni.

 

Wells nails him in the back of the head with a throw pillow.

 

When it’s time for presents, Bellamy sits down at the head of the kitchen table and everyone crowds around him. Monty slides him his family’s gift first, a pair of fancy aviator sunglasses. They’re like the ones that Miller wears, the ones that Bellamy always teases him for, saying he’s trying to look too much like an 80’s cop. He laughs, trying them on and saying he’ll have to grow out his mustache to match them.

 

From Raven and Wells, he gets an iPad. Or rather, it’s his old iPad, the one he thought was broken beyond repair and had resided in the bottom drawer of his desk for months. Raven had refurbished it, even engraving _Property of Bellamy Blake_ on the back. When he turned it on, he nearly choked when he saw that she had set on of Clarke’s old sexy pictures as the lock screen.

 

Lily hands him a homemade card, a crayon drawing of their whole extended family on the front. Inside is a gift certificate for a new Japanese restaurant that had opened a few towns over, which he regards appreciatively. Hibachi is quickly becoming a family favorite; the kids love it when the chefs cook at their table.

 

Once he thanks them for that, Octavia slides him a gift bag with rainbow colored tissue paper spilling out of it. He digs through it, pulling out a large scrapbook. On the front is scan of Lily’s drawing, and when he opens it he sees that it is a compilation of all the events in his life. There are a few of his baby pictures, some more with his mother, his high school graduation, and then Octavia’s. There are college pictures, nearly a dozen from him and Clarke’s wedding, and the last few pages are dedicated to his kids.

 

“O,” Bellamy says, reaching for her hand. Octavia moves in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek on his head.

 

“This is amazing,” he tells her. “Thank you so much, O. I love it.”

 

“I love you, big brother,” she tells him, ruffling his hair.

 

Next, Clarke hands him a small stack of gifts and ducks in for a quick kiss. The first one says it’s from Amelia, and he laughs when he sees that it’s a new travel mug. Amelia was obsessed with his old one, always trying to grab it out of his hands and take a sip. She ended up knocking it off the table once, and it broke when it fell to the floor.

 

“Cup!” she yells once it’s unwrapped, toddling over to his chair and smacking his leg. “My cup, Daddy?”

 

“I don’t think so,” he says, patting her head and putting the mug out of reach. “I’m keeping this one safe from you.”

 

From Caleb, who is currently being swaddled by Monty, he gets a book of myths, retold in modern times. _Read to me until I fall asleep_ , is written on a Post-It note and stuck to the front. From Clarke, he receives a new pair of silver and black gym sneakers and the Rolex he had been eyeing at the mall a few weeks back. He knows that Clarke has A Thing about him wearing watches (namely, she has A Thing about him wearing _just_ a watch in bed), so this gift is just as much for her as it is for him.

 

She winks at him when he opens it, and he makes a show of slipping it onto his wrist.

 

He starts to clean to discarded wrapping paper from the table when Bellamy feels a tug on his shirt sleeve looks down at Jacob, who holding a messily wrapped box in his hand.

 

“Open this one next,” his son says, holding the box out to him. Bellamy runs his fingers through Jacob’s hair and takes the box with a smile. He notices Clarke pull out her phone and start recording, so he knows that whatever is inside the box is either going to make him laugh or cry.

 

When he tears off the wrapping paper and lifts off the lid, he pushes back the tissue paper to find adult sized Chewbacca footie pajamas.

 

“This is great, Jacob!” Bellamy laughs, wrapping his arm around Jacob’s shoulders and hugging him against his side. “Thank you.”

 

“There’s more,” Jacob whispers into his side, looking up at him with those bright blue eyes that melt his heart every day.

 

“Oh, there is?” Bellamy looks back into the box and finds another layer of tissue paper, which is hiding a long manila envelope. His brow furrows as he places the box on the kitchen table and holds up the envelope. He looks to Clarke, who is holding her phone in one hand while the other is pressed to her mouth.

 

“Open it, Dad,” Jacob urges.

 

Bellamy breaks the seal and reaches inside, pulling out what looks like an official document of some kind. He skims over the first page and then his heart stops.

 

“Jacob…” He sinks off the chair to his knees, his hands trembling as he places them on Jacob’s shoulders. “You really want this?”

 

His son nods, grabbing ahold of Bellamy’s arm. “I want it to be real.”

 

“What is it, Bell?” Octavia asks softly. Bellamy looks up at the rest of the group with tears in his eyes.

 

“It’s, uh,” he clears his throat, sniffling once. “It’s a petition for adoption.”

 

The room collectively gasps and Jacob ducks his head again, burrowing into Bellamy’s side, suddenly shy from all the attention.

 

“It was all Jacob’s idea,” Clarke offers, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

 

Bellamy’s mind is reeling. For all intents and purposes, Jacob is his son. He has raised him since he was a baby and just because they don’t share the same blood doesn’t mean that he loves him any less. A piece of paper will never change that.

 

But fuck, the sentiment is enough to make him cry.

 

Bellamy drops the paper onto the table and gathers Jacob in his arms. “It was already real,” he whispers, trying to blink away tears. “You’re my son, Jacob. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Jacob whispers, his fingers curling into the fabric of Bellamy’s shirt. There isn’t a dry eye in the room.

 

Except for Caleb, of course, who is blinking at everyone from his new spot in Lincoln’s arms, and Amelia, who is taking advantage of everyone being distracted to sneak another cupcake.

* * *

 “Best. Birthday. Ever.” Bellamy flops onto their bed, staring at the ceiling fan with a giant smile on his face. Clarke stands in the doorway, arms folded over her stomach, watching him with a smirk. The guests are gone, the kids are all in bed, and there’s a gigantic pile of dishes in the sink that they both decided could wait until tomorrow morning.

 

But his birthday isn’t over yet.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Clarke murmurs, crossing the room and curling up next to him on the bed. “But you forgot to do something.”

 

He rolls over, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

 

Clarke bites her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You forgot to claim your prize.”

 

Bellamy smirks, pulling down the neckline of her light pink blouse to reveal the blue lace she had teased him with earlier.

 

“How could I forget that?”

 

He presses a kiss to the side of her neck, mouthing at her skin as he moves closer to her breasts. She unbuttons her blouse as he moves, letting it fall to her sides and reveal her bra.

 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, Clarke,” he says softly, nipping at the swell of her left breast. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

 

She arches her back so he can reach under her and unclasp her bra, dragging the straps and her shirtsleeves down her arms so she is bare from the waist up. He immediately latches on to a nipple, gently worrying it with his teeth, mindful of its sensitivity.

 

Clarke moans when he cups her cunt over her leggings, his thumb finding her clit over the layers of fabric and rubbing down.

 

“I bet you’re already wet for me,” he says, his mouth in the valley between her breasts. “I bet you’ve been wet since you sucked me off this morning, huh, babe? I know that gets you hot.”

 

“It does, it does,” Clarke pants when he slips his fingers underneath her leggings and pushes her panties aside, his index finger running along her slit.

 

“I knew it,” he growls, pulling his hand back and offering her his finger, shiny with her arousal. “You’re fucking dripping for me.”

 

Clarke opens her mouth, and he runs his finger along her bottom lip before placing it on her tongue, letting her suck her essence from him.

 

“Fuck,” Bellamy whispers, his eyes practically black with arousal. “ _Fuck_. I can’t believe you.” He practically rips her leggings off her legs, cursing in frustration when they get caught around her ankles. Her panties come off easily, and he takes a second to inhale the heady scent of her arousal on them before turning his attention back to her.

 

“Are you gonna eat me out?” Clarke asks breathlessly, half-teasing and half-desperate. She has propped a few of their pillows against the headboard and is reclining back on them, her legs spread wide and knees touching the mattress, baring herself to him.

 

“Are you going to be quiet?” Bellamy settles between her legs, his thumbs spreading her folds to reveal the cream gathered there. He takes a lick, unable to help himself, and she gasps.

 

“Yes, I’ll be quiet,” she says, fisting her right hand in his hair. She tries to drag his face toward her cunt but he resists.

 

“You don’t want to wake anyone up and spoil our fun, do you?” As much as he loves making her scream, a crying baby or a curious kid is the last thing they need right now.

 

“I won’t, I promise.” She tries tugging him forward again. “ _Please_ , Bell.”

 

“Since you said ‘please’,” he teases, finally letting himself be dragged forward. He tongues her clit lightly, just enough to get her desperate, before closing his lips around it and sucking in earnest. He takes breaks, letting up on her clit so he can lap up all the arousal pooling at her opening, letting it coat his mouth and chin as he drinks her in.

 

When he glances up, he sees she has her free hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes tightly closed. Her thighs are trembling around his head, and he knows it’s only a matter of time now. He returns his attentions to her clit, sucking hard on it and thrashing his tongue side to side over the sensitive nub.

 

Clarke releases a strangled moan, partially muffled by her hand, and arches up off the bed as she comes.

 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her clit and pulling back. Clarke removes her hand from her mouth and slips it into his hair, using both hands to tug him up until they’re face to face.

 

She kisses him hungrily, eagerly tasting her own cum. Bellamy is still fully clothed (he knows Clarke loves it, being totally naked when he is completely dressed), so is rock hard cock is straining painfully against his jeans.

 

“Fuck me now,” Clarke begs, biting his lower lip.

 

Not needing to be told twice, he sheds his clothing eagerly and then climbs back onto the bed, manhandling her so that she’s on her knees and elbows, facing the headboard.

 

“ _Fuck meee_ ,” she moans, wiggling her ass as he situations himself behind her. “Please, Bell, I need it.”

 

Fuck, he loves it when she gets like this, all wrecked and desperate for his cock. Her first orgasm never satiates her desire; it increases it tenfold.

 

“I’ve got you, babe,” he says soothingly, finally sliding his cock into her. He’s thankful that she chose to get an IUD after having Caleb so they didn’t have to go back to condoms. She rocks forward pressing her face into the pillows to stifle her groan. “This what you wanted?”

 

“God, _yes_ ,” she cries, pushing back against him as he starts to thrust in and out of her. “More, Bell, I need more.”

 

Both hands grip her hips with bruising force as he fucks into her, angling his hips so he hits that sweet spot inside of her just right. He knows he succeeds when she grabs another pillow and smashes it against the side of her face to muffle her scream.

 

Feeling his own orgasm rapidly approaching, he lets go of her hips and curls his right arm around her waist, pressing his middle and index fingers to her clit and rubbing insistently. His left hand slides up her back to the base of her neck, his fingers curling around it and pressing her harder into the pillows. Her face is turned to the side so she can breathe, and when he leans over to her press a kiss to her temple he can see her smile.

 

“You know how much I love to feel your hot cunt around my cock?” he growls, nipping at the shell of her ear. “I could stay here all day, babe. All day.”

 

“I want it,” Clarke pants, thrusting back against him, her ass rocking back into the cradle of his hips.

 

“Yeah, you love it when I fuck you, don’t you?”

 

“I do, Bellamy, I do.” He can feel the walls of her cunt start to tighten around him. “I’m gonna come, baby. Are you close? I want to feel you come with me when I come.”

 

 _Christ_. Bellamy has always had a thing for talking in bed, and his girl gives it right back to him.

 

“Yeah, I’m coming, too. Shit, babe, go ahead and let go. Let me feel it, sweet girl.”

 

Clarke turns her head, desperately seeking out his lips. He kisses her as she comes, swallowing her moans and adding some of his own. His hips still as he comes inside of her, loving the way her quivering cunt milks his cock.

 

Eventually he pulls out, and Clarke’s knees finally give out, allowing her to collapse onto the sheets. Bellamy kisses a trail down her spine and gently nips at the swell of her ass. When he gets to where they were joined, he revels in the sight of his cum dripping out of her and down her thigh. He cleans her up with his mouth, giving her sensitive clit a bit of extra attention, and she moans in appreciation.

 

“If this is you getting old,” Clarke mumbles, recalling their earlier conversation, “then I can’t wait for the next few years.”

 

Bellamy chuckles, laying back down beside her. He fits himself along her back, tossing an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Yeah,” he says softly, kissing the top of her head. “Neither can I.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> who's excited for season 4? come talk to me about it on tumblr  
> (bilexualclarke)


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